


Heavy Lies the Crown

by Mayblume



Category: Naruto
Genre: Desert, Fluff, M/M, Romance, Stargazing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-26
Updated: 2019-10-26
Packaged: 2021-01-03 19:37:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21184877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mayblume/pseuds/Mayblume
Summary: Sasori and the Third savor a rare evening alone by stargazing outside of Suna.





	Heavy Lies the Crown

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shipcat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shipcat/gifts).

> Day 2 of your birthday week, lovely Kitty! As a present, I filled a prompt from you wishlist: Sasori/Third Kazekage. “I would tear down the sky for you,” and the two stargazing outside of Suna.
> 
> Special thanks to writhingbeneathyou for proof-reading!

The heat of the day takes the cold of the night by the hand and twirls her around on a dance floor made of sand. When they enfold each other in a lover’s embrace and their lips meet, whirlwinds rouse to life.

Somewhere between the folds of her skirt, Sunagakure is sound asleep. Its kage and his secretary have retreated to the top of a roof on the furthest corner of the town in the hope that distance of space will lead to distance of mind. 

The desert lies cool and quiet beneath their feet, reaching for the horizon. Above their heads, the night draws its constellation of stars across the arching sky, speckles of light in the dark. The warmth of the stone underneath them bleeds into their skin as they sit on the top of a secluded roof, duties left below them on the ground. 

They had fought hard for their small oasis of calm and tranquility, a rare moment of peace in a time of war. A moment shared just by the two of them, where the Third is not responsible for the lives of hundreds of people, and Sasori is not his secretary. Only for the night, war is a shimmering mirage, just out of reach. For the next few hours, bloodshed is the furthest thing from their mind. 

Where they were usually surrounded by mission reports and budget lists, letters and contracts and written commands, tonight they sit amidst a luxurious spread of meze, small dishes full of meat and pastes and fruit and bread. During the harsh light of day, their difference in rank and blood and office is a rift between them, keeping their love captive and contained. But tonight all that stands between them is the array of dishes, carefully tucked into their little bowls.

Even a small stack of dates towers between them. Sasori insisted on bringing dates to their date, disproportionately proud of the little pun – a sentiment the Third can’t help but find adorable. 

Their fingers nearly touch when they both reach for the carafe to refill their cups with crimson. A shared look reverberates in the air that fills the empty space between them. The last droplets of wine cling to the rim of the glass like flowers to the Joshua’s trees just outside the walls of his village. 

Distracted, Sasori picks up a plate and falafel balls spill and tumble on the roof like marbles rolling across the sky, tracing the lines of heroes and heralds. The panoply of stars adorning the night sky are reflected in the small dishes between their bodies, mirroring the constellation of stars and stories above them. Burek and lamb are Cassiopeia, eggplant and sarma form Orion. 

The cope of heaven shelters them from their responsibility, their duty, their war. Two precious rubies sitting on top of a crumbling pillow, swimming in darkness and death. The stories of gods and giants mapped out in the dishes and bowls between them, whispering tales of djinn and jinxes into their ears with each bite. 

The tips of their fingers brush as Nadir and Sasori reach for the bread that forms the Northern Crown, and this time, their hands linger.  
The night is cold, as desert nights always are. 

Nadir’s full attention is focused on Sasori, who refuses to tear his gaze away from the starry firmament above their heads. He yearns to hold the gaze of those almond eyes, to bind them to his form, to be the center of their universe. But Sasori, ever the tease, denies him this pleasure with all-knowing intent. 

Instead - 

“Come here, I’m cold,” Sasori commands, neither removing his fingers from where they are tangled with Nadir’s nor his eyes from the sky where they are tangled with the light of dying stars. 

The Third quirks one of his precisely arched eyebrows. 

“Is that an order?” he asks, an amused smile playing around the corners of his lips at the reversal of their usual hierarchy. 

When Sasori locks eyes with his superior and answers, his tone is as cool as the air around them. “Yes.” Sasori is so much like the desert and, just like when he stares at the ever-changing hills of sand, Nadir can’t help but marvel at his beauty. 

The Third chuckles lowly and stands up to move towards his lover. Grace commands every ounce of his body as he sits down behind Sasori and pulls him against his chest. The duty he wears on his shoulders weighs heavy on his head, and he rests it on the red tuft tickling his chin. As always, Sasori was his pillar and his shore. He could build a temple from his support alone. 

Sasori’s head fits beneath his own like a puzzle piece, and he feels complete. He cannot rule the land without the man leaning against his chest, without his warmth seeping into his skin through their clothes. And even if he could – why would he? 

Together, they gaze at the velvet canopy sprinkled with sparkling lights that shields them from this world. 

A sea of sand beneath their feet and a sea of stars above their head. One could feel insignificant at the sight of the vastness of the world, of no importance to the great scheme of things. Helpless in the face of such beauty. Powerless amid the endless universe. But not Nadir. 

Not with Sasori in his arms, the cornerstone of his rule, the pillar with which he upholds his village. His prop, his strut, his brace.

The Third stares at the riches of nature, at the deep blue tulle embellished with diamonds, and he knows. 

“I would tear down the sky for you.”

For the briefest of seconds, tension runs through the small body tucked beneath his chin. But like a scorpion dashing across a dune, it is gone before he even knew it was there. 

“Why would you destroy something so beautiful?” Sasori asks, eyes fixed on the horizon. 

Nadir exhales. His voice is steady when he answers. “If it meant that I could keep something that contains far more beauty. And it’s right here in my arms.” 

Turning to face him, Sasori opens his mouth to protest, but the Third gently tilts his head upwards and captures his lips in a kiss, unsaid words brushed aside with the flick of a tongue. 

Only the desert winds know what sorrows the dawning day might bring, but tonight the only things that paint the sand red are spilled wine and disheveled hair.

**Author's Note:**

> Me, writing this fic: "She doesn't even go here!"


End file.
